


bubble pop electric

by chikoo



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Christmas, Explicit Sexual Content, Fundraisers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Omorashi, Quarterback Mingi, Recreational Drug Use, Swimmer San, Under-negotiated Kink, mingi is a HIMBOO, platonic soulmates woosan, san is a self-proclaimed slut, sangi do and then think, the best Big Frat Bro Seonghwa, very horny, very light d/s stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28619631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chikoo/pseuds/chikoo
Summary: Hongjoong rambles on, taking quick pauses to blow on his coffee but San’s stopped listening entirely. Huh, some functioning brain cell at the rear of San’s brain pipes up, maybe there’s a reason why he’s been super-duper-ultra stressed, more so than normal. And maybe it has something to do with one Mingi Song and the incident that took place right before the quarterback left for his home away game.Or,The one where San juggles finals week, swim meets, loud friends, and the newfound obsession he has with Mingi'smonsterschlong.
Relationships: Choi San/Song Mingi
Comments: 48
Kudos: 234





	1. we be so complicated

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO
> 
> THIS SAYS CHRISTMAS BECAUSE IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A CHRISTMAS TIME THING BUT I COULDNT WRITE SO HEAR I AM WITH ANOTHER DOUBLE CHAPTERED THING  
> i had so much fun w this, i love this pairing so much and i love feral, horny uni aus so ! this was so fun to write.  
> just a warning, san kind of slut shames himself a lot in this, but in a humorous way, so just a heads up for that! 
> 
> Hope you like it!

It’s competition season and San is _stressed._

He should be used to this by now, really, there’s a reason his coach and dietician put him on the strictest of routines; it’s the only way he’d be able to deal with doing an entire season while focusing on the end of semester finals. But there’s something to be said about the human body and it’s absolute inability to work like a well-oiled clockwork machine and maybe San’s a little hard on himself but dear _god,_ is it stressful to come back from five am practise laps and find his _clean_ laundry, yet to be fucking folded, washed again by his overzealous and equally as stressed Big. 

“I’m sorry San, it was just bothering the _fuck_ out of me, I could see a stain on your swim shorts, and I had to just try and get it out,” Seonghwa mumbles, holding San’s swim shorts in front of his face like a shield. As if that might hide the dark bruise-like circles under his eyes, his greasy hair and chin zit. San picks up his favourite work-out shirt gingerly, places it against his chest and realises that it’s shrunk to half it’s size. He looks between the shirt that’s now more of a crop top and the way Seonghwa’s hands are literally trembling in the air and he sighs. 

“When was the last time you slept?” Seonghwa brings the shorts down and squints. 

“Definitely Monday? Yeah, Monday.” 

“It’s Wednesday.” A pause. And then Seonghwa blinks rapidly, looking very much like a malfunctioning android and San sighs wearily again, reaching out to tug at his Big’s hands, dragging him to the living room and pushing him down onto the sofa. Seonghwa sits down with a huff, pouting blearily, and then crumples his face up when San digs for the big blanket Yeosang keeps folded under one of the cushions. 

“What-”

“Just sleep. Your thesis can wait, you need to sleep before you collapse and Hongjoong singlehandedly obliterates everyone in a sheer, blind rage.” 

Seonghwa frowns but lies down, holding the blanket up to his face. “That sounds needlessly dramatic. And very accurate- it’s his _Gemini_ rising,” he mutters sagely, rolling his eyes. He curls up and slow-blinks at San, opening his mouth to say something but interrupting himself with a big, loud yawn. San snorts and pinches at his warm cheeks, watching as Seonghwa conks out immediately, face going lax, just as Hongjoong walks in, scratching at his stomach and halting comically when he sees them. 

“Oh my god you got him to sleep,” he whispers, eyes widening reverently. If San had a death wish, he would poke fun at the way Hongjoong’s eyes are literally tearing up but he’s tired and he’s _nice_ so he just nods and inclines his head, asking for head pats. Which Hongjoong readily gives, fingernails scritching at San’s scalp comfortingly, and then massages at the back of his neck, digging into the tense muscles there. 

“Hmm,” Hongjoong murmurs, wisely, like the perfect, beautiful, _amazing_ President he is, who would be even more perfect if he just dug his fingers into that spot right at the base of San’s neck-

“You’re just as bad as him, San, don’t think I haven’t noticed. You need to rest as well,” Hongjoong announces and San huffs in agreement. 

“The first meet’s in a week. Already started tapering, so I’m not going to be as physically washed out but-but still,” he mutters, shutting his eyes and revelling in the massage. It’s still stressful, he wants to say. He’s still nervous and strung out. 

Hongjoong hums in sympathy and squeezes extra hard before he lets go, trudging over to the kitchen to flick on the kettle, digging blindly through the cupboards for coffee. 

“Take care of yourself, Sannie,” he says, pouring boiling water into a cup. “I know it’s like- super extra stressful right now, but if you need anything, you know you can talk to me right?” He peers up at San intently, purposefully, in that pointed way he adopts sometimes, the “ _scary, intimidating, senior gay president mode_ ” as Jongho affectionately calls it. San salutes playfully and gives him a wry smile, sauntering over to him and taking a quick sip of his scalding coffee before he has the chance to stop him. 

“I will, you know I will. I’ve got this,” he drawls with enough confidence to fool even himself and Hongjoong snorts, yanking his cup from San’s hands and cradling it protectively. 

“Uh-huh,” is all he says, waddling over to the kitchen table. “Hmm, Mingi’s back today isn’t he?” He asks breezily. 

San goes ramrod straight. 

“They won the game on Thursday so I assume that means they’ll be back by today, and as usual, Mingi’s forgotten to text us. It’s fine this time though, I’m not going to rain on his parade but is it _really_ that hard to text your damn frat group chat like what is the-”

Hongjoong rambles on, taking quick pauses to blow on his coffee but San’s stopped listening entirely. Huh, some functioning brain cell at the rear of San’s brain pipes up, maybe there’s a reason why he’s been super-duper-ultra stressed, more so than normal. And maybe it has something to do with one Mingi Song and the incident that took place right before the quarterback left for his home away game.

Suddenly, the phone in the pocket of his tracksuit doubles, weighing it down, as if reminding him of the multiple unanswered texts Mingi’d sent him over the last week. He’d seen the first one, not even an hour after Mingi had left, starting with the dreaded “ _Hey, we need to talk about this_ ” and he’d promptly turned his notifications off, letting them fester like dirty socks in a pile. 

Listen, San’s a firm believer in the “ _if you can’t see it, it doesn’t exist_ ” school of thought. 

Hongjoong’s stopped talking and is staring expectantly at San. Oh fuck. 

“Uh. Haha. Yeah. Mingi. Mingi Song. Song Mingi,” San says dumbly, tottering on the balls of his feet. Hongjoong gives him a weird look. 

“Um, I asked you if you spoke to Wooyoung. He said you seemed pissed at him and I don’t want you guys fighting right now okay?,” he says slowly, like he’s speaking to a five year old. “Are you feeling okay?” 

San laughs nervously and picks up his gym bag, hefting it. “Absolutely peachy. _Absolutely fine._ And, I’m not pissed at all, what gave him that impression?” _Maybe the fact that you haven’t been able to look Wooyoung in the face since last Friday, have studiously avoided hanging out with him or even being alone in the same room with him._

Hongjoong fixes him with that blank look again. “I don’t know but he seemed bothered enough that he brought it up with me so, go sort your shit out. I need my treasurer and secretary to get along because Christmas Week is coming up and so help me god, I refuse to let the Kappas do better than us again.” 

Fuck. Another thing to be stressed about. San wants to curl up in a ball in his closet and stay there till the semester ends. 

“Ah. Okay, I’ll talk to him.” Wooyoung’s probably pissy as fuck but, if San went up to him right now, he’d see right through him like he always does and then would _never_ forgive San. The stark image of Wooyoung throwing their soulmate rings into a bin and spitting something mean at San crosses his mind and he shudders. No, absolutely not, San absolutely _cannot_ speak to Wooyoung, not unless he wants to lose the most important person in his life right now. 

The horrible, logical, _mean_ voice at the back of his head whispers, _you already lost him when you decided to sleep with Mingi Song you bubblegum lookin ass slut._

And, okay alter-ego San, that was _way_ harsh but not wrong at all. San is the _worst_ friend in the entire world. 

“I’m a bubblegum slut,” he whispers sadly and Hongjoong blinks, shakes his head, and downs his coffee in one go. 

  
  


* * *

See, here’s the thing. 

Whichever cosmic entity it was that weaved the entire universe into existence stitched a pretty big Wooyoung-shaped hole into the fabric of San’s life because from the moment Wooyoung plopped his tiny little butt next to a bewildered, and equally as tiny, San on that kindergarten playground all those years ago, they’ve been _inseparable_. 

They’d made a soulmate pact when they were seven, did a little (slightly satanic, in hindsight) ritual that involved their favourite toys, Wooyoung’s dad’s garage tools and the weird, animal bones San found in his garden, and promised each other they’d “ _be friends forever, no matter what!_ ” 

And they are. _Were_ , San’s alter-ego mutters and really that bitch needs to shut the fuck _up._

They’ve been there for each other through everything, all the kinds of moments that define your core memories:

  1. When San was being mercilessly bullied by an older kid for ages and couldn’t tell anyone until the day he’d been beaten up so bad he almost fainted on the way home and Wooyoung took one look at him, walked up to the kid the next day and straight up punched the kid in his crotch, spitting and clawing at him until the kid started crying. No one ever bullied San again.
  2. When Wooyoung first decided to tell his parents that he wants to be called “Wooyoung” from now on and wants to cut his hair short like San’s and all the other boys’ in school, holding San’s hand tight and standing tall. 
  3. When San won his first gold medal at a local swim meet and Wooyoung yelled so loudly, sprinting up to San and slipping on the wet floors and grinning like an idiot. 
  4. When they both got into the same college and then got bids from the _same_ frat and everything really, truly felt like destiny. 



Until Last Friday. When San decided to think with his tiny, _cowardly_ fucking dick and sleep with the guy Wooyoung’s had a crush on for the last three years. 

Mingi Song was the first person they met during the rush period, in a party thrown by Sigma Mu on the first weekend. Mingi’d walked up to them, introduced himself with that trademark sunshine, gummy smile, told them he’d got here on a sports scholarship for football like San had for swimming and Wooyoung did that _thing_ where his eyes go big and he leans in really close to talk to hot guys: the thing that gets him laid constantly. When Mingi’d left to go get a drink, Wooyoung had fixed San with a look of awe and whispered:

“I know his dick is big, I _know_ it. I’m going to stick my tongue so far down his throat that I taste what he had for dinner.” Which, ew, gross. But also, Wooyoung hadn’t ended up making out with Mingi that day. Or the days after that. Or the days after they got pledged to Alpha Tau Zeta and moved in together in one of the campus houses. And definitely not since which is why Wooyoung’s made it his life’s mission to bag and date one Mingi Song, “the one that got away, Sannie! I can’t believe I’ve made out with almost everyone in this frat, except for Mingi, what the _fuck._ ” San had giggled, a little shy because he’s really only made out with two people his entire life, Hyunjin, his ex, and Wooyoung, his platonic soulmate. 

And oh what irony, what dramatic, _comedic_ irony, because not even two weeks after that conversation, San had found himself face down, ass-up on Mingi Song’s bed, getting fucked so hard by said man that he’d started bawling. 

Wooyoung was right. Mingi’s dick is big. Like ginormous. Like, San had taken one look at it, dropped his jaw open and stuck his tongue out like a _whore._ Because that’s what he is, really. 

What else could have possessed him to knock on Mingi’s door on Friday evening, take in a sweet, shirtless, sleep-ruffled Mingi and propose that they smoke up and relax? Okay maybe that wasn’t really out of the ordinary, Mingi and him have smoked together before, Mingi’s a really chill guy to smoke with and he gives San really indulgent head massages and-

_Oh my god, it was the bubblegum hair._ He really _is_ a bubblegum slut. _Ugh._

San’s not going to lie, he’s been really feeling himself ever since he dyed his hair an obnoxious, bright pink. And maybe, San had severely underestimated just how much other people would like it too because in Mingi’s sweltering room, lying down on Mingi’s thigh, high off his mind, San had absently registered Mingi’s fascination with his hair. The way he ran his fingers through it slowly, gently pulling at it, making San shiver at the sensation. 

“You look really pretty like this,” Mingi’d said. 

“Mhmm,” San had replied. 

And then one thing led to another and somehow, Mingi was pushing his big, fat cock into San’s asshole, holding a fistful of his hair with one hand and a fistful of his right asscheek with the other. And San was drooling onto Mingi’s cotton sheets, whimpering so softly, Mingi had yanked his head up by the hair and growled out a, “I need to hear you. I need to hear how badly you want it.” 

And yeah okay, San had kinda lost his mind after that and remembers that night in bits and pieces. Mingi’s large hand spreading his asscheeks apart so he could watch the way his cock made San’s asshole _gape_ , how San just took it, hastily lubed up, so warm it had made Mingi fuck in even harder, till San was making these embarrassing _unh!_ noises, cheek rubbing up against the mattress. 

San remembers words, Mingi’s deep voice, usually so dulcet and cheery, groaning absolute _filth_ in his ear-

“My hands fit around your waist so easily. I feel like I’m fucking into my fleshlight”-

“ _Fuck_ , you’re so _eager_. That guy you used to see, he ever fuck you like this? Tell me, San, did he ever get you this messy?”

San remembers mewling, shaking, sniffing into the crook of his elbow and biting viciously at the skin there eveytime Mingi fucked in hard enough for San’s stomach to jolt. He remembers coming twice, once when Mingi called him “my needy little baby” and once with Mingi’s long fingers jerking him off furiously. 

He also remembers stumbling to his room after Mingi passed out, locking the door and crawling into his bed, shivering, still a little hard. He’d resolutely pretended to be asleep when Mingi’d knocked on his door the next morning to say goodbye before he left for his game, waiting till he left the house to leave the room.

And now, San stares at the eight, _eight_ messages Mingi’s sent him and tamps down the urge to scream into his pillow. 

**_Saturday, 12 Nov 10:24 am_ **

**Hey, we need to talk about this**

**are you okay tho? im sorry i was a little rough yday and we should have talked about it im really sorry**

**_Monday, 14 Nov 7:35 pm_ **

**fuck,,, remembering some really intense shit i said san im really sorry**

**_Tuesday, 15 Nov 10:22 pm_ **

**we shouldn’t have done that while high, i didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfy situation**

**san?**

**im really sorry**

**_Friday, 18 Nov 4:19 pm_ **

**we gotta talk about this man you can’t keep ignoring me**

**im back tmrw, please let’s talk**

  
  


Oh gosh. Mingi thinks San didn’t like it. Mingi thinks he took advantage of San, oh _no._ And what? Had Mingi not noticed San choking on his own snot? Had he not noticed the way San came twice? 

_Nah, bro, you’re good. I’ve never been fucked that hard in my life and I’ve been fapping to it for the past week,_ is what he wants to say. Instead, he hastily types out a **no worries, im not uncomfy or anything. we can talk when you get back** and sends it before he has the chance to overthink. 

Mingi’s reply comes barely a moment later. 

**okay. i’ll be back at the house by 5.**

Sigh. San sets his phone down on his desk and falls onto his bed, breathing deep. 

See, here’s the other thing. San’s not going to deny that Mingi’s like, really hot. And he’s not going to deny that he hasn’t noticed it before. But usually, he admires Mingi’s broad shoulders, thick thighs and sunny smile from afar. Pretends that his cock doesn’t get half-hard sometimes when Mingi makes San sit in his lap during parties, cuddling him like his own personal teddy bear. 

So yeah, San’s not going to deny that this mayhaps happened because of all the excessive thirsting he’s been doing and he’s going to be paying for it, in the form of karma or bad luck or sadness or whatever happens to bad best friends. 

He exhales heavily. It’s probably 8 am by now and Wooyoung’s up for dance rehearsals. And like he wills it to happen, there’s a sudden knock on his door. 

Wooyoung pokes his fluffy head in when San hums and stares at him with wide eyes. He looks adorable. San is going to eat his damn fist. 

“Hey, just got back from practice?” 

San sits up, leaning back on his elbows cautiously and nods in reply. Wooyoung shuffles in, already wearing his work-out clothes, shoes in hand. He looks equally as cautious and San hates this so much, hates it when things are weird between them because they rarely are and this time it’s _his_ fault. 

“You-”

“Are we-”

They speak at the same time and then stop abruptly, blinking at each other. Then Wooyoung rolls his eyes, sets his shoes down and barrels into San like a human bulldozer, sitting on top of him and holding him down with hands to his chest. He squints down at San and as if he’s holding a fucking knife to his throat or something, shakes San’s collar. 

“Okay, why are you being weird?” San makes a sound that vaguely resembles what he thinks a surprised racoon would sound like. Wooyoung squints harder and shakes San like a toy. 

“You’re being weird. You’ve been avoiding me and ignoring me. Either you’re pissed at me or you did something and you think I’ll get mad.” See! _See!_ Wooyoung always fucking knows. 

San clears his throat. “I-I’m not, I promise. I’m stressed Woo, like out of my mind and with everything going on I’m scared I’ll snap at people, especially you. And I just-I just need my space for a bit. Until I’m done with meets at least.” 

Wow. San’s not entirely sure where such a bold-faced lie came from and how he managed to sound kinda sincere even to his own ears but that’s maybe because it’s not really a lie. He really does feel like he’s going out of his mind. But rather than being left alone, San desperately needs someone to sit him down, pat his hair and say “You’re doing well, son.” And maybe also let him cry in their arms a little. 

He sniffs convincingly and Wooyoung scrunches up his nose. Then he suddenly has a nostril full of Wooyoung’s hair, and Wooyoung’s big, toned, dancer arms squeezing the fuck out of him. 

“Aw, you big baby! You should have just said, oh my god, I wouldn’t have been mad at you.” Haha, San thinks weakly. “Besides, Yunho and I are throwing a little, frat only party for Mingi tonight so you’re going to wear something comfy, eat a lot of good food and just relax for today. I know you don’t have practise tomorrow morning.” 

Dear God. San silently prays to that elusive cosmic entity in the sky for a quick, painless death because there’s no way in _hell_ San’s going to survive tonight and come out in one piece.

He smiles shakily and takes deep, internal breaths. Okay, it’s going to be fine, it really is, he’s going to talk to Mingi before and explain that Friday night should never have happened and they can happily ignore each other and go back to being frat bros. Just two bros. Who have seen each other naked and made each other orgasm. Yeah.

“You’re in charge of getting beer by the way, Yunho and I are organising the food after class, so don’t forget,” Wooyoung says, clambering off San gracefully, giving him finger guns, and stomping out of his room. 

San lies there, in the mess he’s made and simmers like burnt garlic stuck to the bottom of a pan, too far gone to be salvageable. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


He makes it to class somehow because, well, San’s never missed a day of class in his life, a feat that continues to astonish him and everyone around him. But San’s nothing if not disciplined and consistent and well, his scholarship kinda sorta also depends on him not missing class too much. 

By the time he gets back, a six-pack of beer in both hands and a bottle of Smirnoff in his backpack, Mingi’s already gotten back. San pauses at the entrance and stares at the big ass Adidas sneakers placed neatly on the shoe rack. He hefts the beer, swallows down a squiggly, wiggly little tendril of anxiety and walks in, quietly announcing that he’s home. 

“Sannie! In the kitchen!” Seonghwa calls out and San trudges in, holding the beer up like a prize and smiling when Seonghwa’s eyes light up. Opposite Seonghwa, Yunho cheers, his arm resting on-

Mingi. Mingi, who’s dyed his hair. Mingi, who’s sitting on the kitchen counter, braced on his elbows, muscles tight under his button-up shirt, collarbone on display, _blonde hair pushed back casually._

“Oh my god,” San whispers. Reverently. Mingi peers up at him and laughs, the sharp lines of his face softening up into the curve of his cheeks. He runs his fingers through his hair and his bicep bulges and fucking _hell_ San was prepared for many things but not for this. 

“Yeah, Changbin dyed it for me after the game and it actually turned out pretty good, so- I’m kinda happy with it,” Mingi murmurs, scratching his forehead and glancing at San. Yunho reaches out and ruffles Mingi’s hair and San has the irrational urge to bite Yunho’s hand. 

“Looks great, dude. This suits you, like, a lot,” Yunho says, patting Mingi on the back and San hums in agreement, not trusting himself to say something coherent and appropriate. San stands there dumbly for a moment until Mingi gets up and gestures to himself, reaching out for oh, the packs San’s holding. 

“Here, gimme.” Mingi grabs hold of both easily and sets them down next to the microwave, opening the fridge to see if there’s any space and then shoving them in. San stares at the broad expanse of his back for a long, embarrassing moment before he sets his backpack down and takes out the bottle as well, handing it to Seonghwa. Mingi sits back down and San stands, so viscerally aware of Mingi’s presence in a way he’s never been before. Everything Mingi does, every gesture, every twitch, makes San’s heart thud. It’s fucking ridiculous. 

“Wooyoung’s upstairs ordering stuff from _Eomma_ ’s, is that cool? We thought chimaek and some snacky stuff made sense today, it’ll just be the eight of us and the guys from the second dorm,” Yunho says to San who blinks. 

“Wait, Chan and everyone as well? I’m not sure I got enough beer then.” 

“It’s fine, he said they’re bringing some too.” 

Ah okay. San sits there and stays quiet, watching them interact with each other. He plays with the strap of his backpack and tries to pretend he’s shivering because it’s cold (it’s not) and not because Mingi keeps looking over at him. He wants to ask Mingi if they can talk but he can’t just say that outright without Seonghwa and Yunho asking questions and he doesn’t want to text Mingi and be weird and sneaky. 

So, he just gets up and goes upstairs silently, trying to figure out if there’ll be anytime tonight to get Mingi alone and talk. He passes by Wooyoung’s room and hears him chattering in rapid-fire Korean to the lady on the phone, cracking open the door to wave at him quickly and then walks up the second flight of stairs and to his own room, setting his backpack down and rummaging through his closet for a more comfortable hoodie. 

He’s in the middle of shucking his shirt off when there’s a knock on the open door and San startles, peering at Mingi who’s standing there, a hand in his pocket, looking to the side. 

“Sorry, your door was open so I-”

“It’s fine.” And it is. They’ve all seen each other naked at some point, especially him, Yeosang and Mingi considering how many times they’ve shared the same locker room or even the same bathroom. And also, there’s the fact that Mingi has seen San’s hairy asshole so changing in front of him really shouldn’t be an issue. Oh no, San stills, head stuck in the hoodie. Mingi’s seen his hairy, ugly, asshole, _hngggg, why is life so cruel??_

He puts the hoodie on quickly and pats at his flaming cheeks, stifling the urge to whine in embarrassment, nodding at Mingi to come in, trying not to think stupid things anymore. 

Mingi comes in and sits down at the edge of San’s bed gingerly, rubbing his palms on his thighs. San leans against his cupboard and stares at him. He looks- more than a little nervous, eyes wide and lips pouty. It’s kinda cute and makes San want to reach out and pinch his cheeks. 

“So.”

“So.” 

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry San, we were really high and I should have thought about it before I did all that stuff and if it wasn’t what you wanted, I’m so-”

“I _did_ want it,” San interrupts, tugging at the strings of his hoodie and looking at the ground. “You didn’t do anything I didn’t want and I-I felt comfortable enough around you to get high and I fully consented to everything we did.” 

Silence. Then-

“So... Why did you never answer my texts then? It felt like you were avoiding me because of- it felt like you really regretted it.” 

“I didn’t! I was just- I was embarrassed,” he whispers and he’s about to add that he also feels like a homewrecker without an actual home to wreck because he’d completely betrayed Wooyoung’s trust but suddenly Mingi’s standing and towering over San, his big hands coming up to cup San’s, fingers threading between San’s smaller, stubbier ones. 

“Hey, there was nothing to be embarrassed about. You were amazing,” he murmurs, voice pitched so low San _swears_ he can hear it rumble in Mingi’s chest. He’s still holding San’s hands. “You know that right? You know how beautiful you looked? I can’t stop thinking about it.” 

A shudder goes up San’s spine. His stomach pools with so much heat he has to part his lips to allow some of it to expel, his mouth buzzing with the rush of blood. He chances a glance up to Mingi’s face and immediately looks away. Mingi’s eyes are so _intense_ always, just like they’d been that night, when he’d held San’s cheeks and pulled him in for a searing kiss. San’s not used to Mingi like this; he’s used to the goofy guy who makes dumb dick jokes, he’s not used to- whoever _this_ is. 

San bites his lip. “I’m not beautiful, don’t- don’t just say shit like that.” And see, San knows he has an attractive body, he’s bound to after years of training and developing a toned, supple swimmer’s body. Complete with the weirdly long toes. But he also knows he’s not exactly the kind of person that would make jaws drop. That’s more Yeosang. And Wooyoung. Those two are the ones who seem to _command_ attention in a room, beautiful and enticing. San, on the other hand, is passably cute and painfully, ridiculously, shy. 

“I’m not. You know I never lie,” Mingi protests. One of his big, warm hands comes up to cup San’s jaw, tipping it up until San’s forced to look him in the eye. “You are so beautiful it made me a little crazed. Even now, the way you look, I want to kiss you so badly,” Mingi says fiercely, squeezing San’s jaw. What comes out of San’s mouth next is truly only because he’s lost the ability to make a single, intelligent thought. 

“But I didn’t even shave, you know, down there. My asshole was all hairy. You- you really didn’t mind?” Mingi blinks, going from sexy and feral to cute really quick. Then he laughs, throwing his head back, and guffawing while San stands there wilting in embarrassment. 

“Baby, your asshole was fine. In fact, I really, _really_ wouldn’t mind seeing it again. Maybe, this time, I can put my mouth on it and make you cry like that again?” What the fuck. What the _fuck._ San pulls Mingi down by the shirt and kisses him, urgent and a little enamoured because- holy shit? Mingi kisses back harder, pressing San against the cupboard, palm cupping San’s hip and squeezing. 

Parting his mouth, San licks cautiously into Mingi’s mouth and moans when Mingi sucks on his tongue immediately, making a disgusting, heady, wet noise that goes straight to San’s cock. Mingi’s so singleminded, so intense, licking and sucking at San’s lips, pulling away to bite and it’s messy and really wet and San likes it so much because it really does feel like Mingi goes a little crazed, _predatory,_ with complete focus and attention. And it’s all because of San, it’s all _for_ San. 

Suddenly Mingi pulls away and San doesn’t even get a chance to whine, because Mingi’s dropping to his knees and unzipping San’s jeans and yanking his boxers down, fishing his aching hard cock out and fisting at it till there’s precome spurting from the head and San has to bite his fist in order to quell the loud moan that erupts from him. 

Mingi jerks him off for a moment, quick and rough and then he’s wrapping his lips around the head and suckling and San damn near blacks out. 

“Fuck,” he says eloquently, throwing his head back. Mingi takes in more of his cock, bobbing his head and sucking him off with so much ease, squeezing San’s balls and doing it harder when San whines in protest. Then suddenly, there are hands grabbing his thighs and placing them over Mingi’s shoulders and San has to scramble to grab onto something, anything, yelping and then moaning when Mingi lifts him a little, till his feet are off the ground and he’s held aloft, fingers buried in Mingi’s hair. 

And then, Mingi pushes at his thighs a little and licks a stipe up from his perineum to his balls. San moans so loudly he has to slap a hand over his mouth, panting loudly and keening when Mingi does it again, suckling at his balls.

“M-mingi, fuck, _please_ ,” San whispers, choked ou,t and when Mingi finally, _finally_ , tongues at his taint, he bursts into tears, biting his lip, vision blurring, nothing but the white-hot sensation of pleasure filling his head. Mingi eats him out just like that, kneeling on the ground, spreading San’s thighs apart and keeping him steady, licking and lapping at his asshole. It’s so much and it’s not enough and San wants to be filled to the brim and he never wants this to end. 

It doesn’t take long for the pleasure to mount, rising till it’s almost choking him, his abdomen contracting wildly, thighs twitching and quivering so much, Mingi has to dig his fingers in, firm and strong, but the pain only serves to drive San wilder. 

“Mingi, I-gonna cum, gonna cum,” he murmurs and Mingi leans back up to swallow his cock down, deepthroating it so easily, San clenches, body going taut and cums so hard his vision whites out for a long moment. When he comes to, he’s sniffling, and there’s snot running down his chin, _argh,_ just like that first time and just like that first time, Mingi’s staring up at him in awe, hand fisting his own cock, eyes fixed on the tears running freely down San’s cheeks. 

“You’re so fucking pretty, I want to cum all over that pretty face. Will you let me?” And what else can San do but nod fervently? Mingi sets him down carefully; it’s futile though, San crumples in a heap, anyways, legs too weak to do much. He doesn’t mind, just bends down lower, back arched, mouth open and tongue out. Mingi swears and speeds up till suddenly, with no warning at all, he’s spurting all over San’s face and the ground. 

San licks what lands on his mouth and decides that he really, _really_ likes the way Mingi tastes. Which is monumental because San’s other point of reference for jizz was Hyunjin and San hadn’t really liked swallowing Hyunjin’s jizz. He’s not going to ponder over what that means. 

He’s ready to slump into Mingi and sleep forever but Mingi jostles him, crawling away and leaving San unbearably alone for a moment before he comes back with wet tissues from San’s desk and wipes his face gently. San sits there, legs still twitching a little and blinks owlishly at Mingi. 

“Your pink hair and my cum all over your face looks weirdly aesthetic.” _Annnnd_ there goes their moment. 

San snorts and gently pushes Mingi away, grabbing onto his shoulders for support and standing up. Jesus, one rimming and he can’t fucking stand. What good is his athletic training? He zips his jeans up and then pulls Mingi to his feet as well. They look at each other for a moment and there’s something charged between, something that both of them want to say, sitting on the tip of their tongue. It’s too much, _far_ too much. San presses a quick kiss to Mingi’s lips and steps away. 

“You should go out quietly. I don’t think anyone came upstairs except for-” Wooyoung. Dread grabs hold of San’s throat like a vice. Jesus fuck. He had one job. One fucking job as a friend. 

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’m sure everyone was downstairs,” Mingi murmurs, scratching at his elbow. San stares at him helplessly and tamps down the urge to stop him when he winks at San and leaves, closing the door behind him. 

San can hear the distant sounds of their friends talking, soft music playing already and the doorbell ringing indicating the others have arrived as well. 

He picks up his pillow and finally lets out the scream that’s been building for a whole damn week. 


	2. take me now and do it justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HFAKHFJKDS THIS GOT LONGER PLEASE  
> the third chapter will be the last tho, i gotta write the cute christmasy stuff and sangi having their lil kink discovery moment again and then we're done! I'm having,,,,,, so much fun w this fic i hope that shows lol
> 
> ALSO UPDATED TAGS PLEASE TAKE NOTE THERE'S OMORASHI AND UNDERNEGOTIATED KINK STUFF HERE BC SANGI ARE DUMB AND DON'T COMMUNICATE ENOUGH ALSO MINGI'S A HIMBO SO
> 
> i hope you guys like this lol!

“So, let me get this straight. You got baked and then slipped and fell onto Mingi Song’s dick and he fucked you so hard you did it again?” 

San hangs on to the lane divider mournfully and kicks his legs under the water, pouting. Gahyeon fidgets with her cap, adjusting her hair, and then gives San a really judgemental look. She’s wearing goggles and he can’t really see it but the way her mouth is twisted says it all. In the distance, their coach is yelling into his phone at who San assumes is his five-year-old son by the way he keeps repeating, “Do not touch the paint, no! I literally just said not to touch it?” 

Gahyeon sighs wearily and yeah, San gets it. “I mean you were high, dude, it happens sometimes, I’m pretty sure Siyeon and I ate each other out this one time when we-”

“Okay, but you’re dating Siyeon now! Also, I-I wasn’t high the second time,” he whispers and Gahyeon snorts. 

“Well, yeah. But it still isn’t a big deal like it’s not like Mingi asked you out or anything right? Wooyoung would understand. I mean, Mingi’s hot, Wooyoung would _definitely_ understand.”

San dunks his head underwater for a second and comes up exhaling heavily. “That’s not the point! It’s still, like, bro code, isn’t it? You just don’t sleep with your friend’s crush like that’s such a shitty thing to do.”

“You’re not a shitty person San, you’re like the opposite of a shitty person. Just _tell_ him. And like, this was a one-time, well, two-time thing, doesn’t mean it needs to happen again right?” Gahyeon replies, reaching out to pat him on the arm placatingly. 

“Sorry, guys, my kid’s being a menace.” Coach storms back in, looking flustered, effectively bringing an end to their conversation. “Let’s do flip turns again. San, your turns are ugly, I want to see them like Gahyeon’s, smooth and agile.” 

Gahyeon smiles beatifically at him and swims off to do freestyle laps. San grumbles under his breath. Coach always says his turns are shit but San’s won almost every meet so far and has _never_ had an issue with them. Just because he looks a tiny bit like a floundering baby duck doesn’t mean he doesn’t get the job done. It’s just because Gahyeon’s everyone’s favourite, he thinks, huffing. 

But Gahyeon’s right about one thing: there’s absolutely no reason for it, him and Mingi boning, fornicating, touching penises ( _nghh_ Mingi’s penis), to happen again. It was just a tiny lapse in San’s judgement and it needn’t happen again. There’s no need for San to even really be _around_ Mingi all that much, what with finals and his meet, he has abundant excuses to avoid him. 

Now, if only he could get this through Mingi’s thick skull because not even an hour later, San sees Mingi’s gargantuan frame from underwater, standing at the edge of the pool, waving down cheerily at him. He pops up so fast he swallows a mouthful of water and coughs furiously. He can practically hear Gahyeon’s amusement from the other lane. 

“You okay?” San hangs onto the ledge of the pool for dear life and squints up at Mingi through the plastic blue of his goggles. Mingi’s hair is damp and plastered to his forehead. He’s wearing a tank and gym shorts, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. San stares at the bulge of his quadriceps under the hem of his shorts and follows the length of his legs down to the curve of his calves and his shiny shoes. Then he looks up and almost has to look away from the beaming smile on Mingi’s face. 

“Um. Yeah. I’m fine. But what are you doing here?” 

Mingi shrugs, pointing vaguely behind himself. “The South Wing’s gym has no air con today so the guys and I came here. I just got done and was about to hit the showers when I remembered you’d probably be here. Are you done too?” 

“No.” 

“Okay, you guys can go shower now!” Oh for fuck’s sake Coach. “I’ve emailed you your meet timetables so _please_ for the love of god, check your emails and show up on time,” Coach adds, wagging a finger threateningly in their directions. Gahyeon’s already out of the pool, rubbing her hair with a towel and wiggling her eyebrows at San. 

“Oh good! Do you wanna go together?” Mingi asks, so sweetly, tilting his head down at San. 

“Um, go home together?”

“Yeah, obviously,” Mingi replies, amused, and no Mingi, there is nothing amusing about this, San wants to whine, I’m trying to avoid you, you big _oaf,_ but instead just nods and pushes off the ledge, swimming quickly to the other side and pulling himself out of the pool. 

He rubs his body hastily with his towel and then wraps it around his waist, picking up his bag and clothes, slipping into flip flops and padding towards Mingi. He passes by Gahyeon who mutters an urgent “ _Tell him!_ ”, her eyes bugging out furiously. 

And he does mean to. He really does, god, does he mean to. But Mingi grabs onto his bag, waving away San’s protests and they walk together to the showers where it’s blessedly empty and San sets his bag down, ambling towards an empty stall when he notices Mingi literally right behind him. 

He pauses, blinking up at Mingi, fingers bunched up in the towel around his waist. Mingi’s already gotten his shirt and shorts off, wearing nothing but a towel around his own waist. He blinks down at San. 

“I’m going to shower now,” San says slowly. Mingi nods, eyes wide. 

“Yeah, I thought I’d join you. It’s a lot quicker. Unless, of course, you don’t want me to, that’s totally chill,” he says, giving San a goofy thumbs up. 

San bites his lips and avoids looking at Mingi’s very broad, very sweaty chest. His nipples are so light, they’re almost pink. Mingi has pink fucking nipples, he can’t believe he hadn’t noticed this before. He wants to lick the sweat dripping from them. 

“Um, okay. Okay, yeah, it’s fine,” he whispers and before he can chicken out, shuffles into the stall. And it is, really, like there’s only three bathrooms between the eight of them in the house so San’s shared with Mingi a bunch of times. Granted it wasn’t like they’d actually showered together, it was more like San had showered with the curtains drawn while Mingi brushed his teeth or something. But still! Mingi’s right, it’d be a lot quicker and like, better for the environment and stuff. San is _all_ for saving the environment. 

He hangs the towel on the door and quickly shimmies off his swim shorts, wringing them out and hanging them as well. Next to him, Mingi toggles with the handles until luke-warm water comes cascading down from the showerhead, slowly heating up till there’s steam wafting around them. 

San’s completely naked and the stall is big but not so big that he’s not viscerally aware of Mingi’s equally naked body standing close to him, their skin grazing against each other. He stands awkwardly to the side while Mingi wets himself and his hair and then moves away to give San space, reaching for the shower gel. 

The water stings in the best way and San immediately goes lax, muscles melting under the heat, allowing the water to run down his shoulders and back. He has his eyes closed and relaxed when suddenly a sizzling touch settles on his hips and he yelps. 

“Sorry,” Mingi says quietly. He steps so close to San his breath tickles the back of San’s neck and his chest meets the wired skin of San’s back every time he inhales. “Can I do this for you?” 

“Mm?” San says, very distracted by the briefest, lightest sensation of Mingi’s soft cock brushing against San’s ass. He turns a little to the side and sees the bottle in Mingi’s hands and nods, pressing his lips together. 

“Kay,” Mingi says and gets to work, squeezing a dollop onto his palm and massaging it into San’s skin, starting with his back and neck, pressing his fingers into the dip of San’s spine. He pulls at San’s forearm, silently urging him to turn around and out from under the spray of water. Then he meticulously rubs down San’s arms, kneading his sore biceps and the knots right above his scapula, at the base of his neck. San exhales heavily and lets his head thunk onto Mingi’s shoulder, sighing breathlessly when Mingi works at the particularly stubborn knot higher up on his neck, trying to quell the dangerous way his heart thuds. 

Because it’s weird. It’s really weird because Mingi’s doing that absorbed, intense thing again where he puts all his focus into one thing and now the one thing is cleaning San’s body and touching him clinically but still so softly, caressing at his stomach and then literally bending down on one knee and taking San’s foot in his hands, kneading up his calves and his thighs. 

San doesn’t stop him, doesn't think he _can_ because he’s too busy feeling like putty, well-oiled and drunk off of touch. Mingi’s hands have never been bigger than they are now. San’s never been touched like this before, not with Hyunjin, _no one_. He doesn’t realise it until Mingi rubs his inner thigh and then quick as a flash, jerks at his cock once but he’s hard. Like, leaking-precome-profusely hard. 

He moans and Mingi smiles, pushing him under the showerhead again, gathering him up in his arms until they’re both standing under the water and washing off the soap. San’s cock brushes against Mingi’s thigh and he moans again and this time, Mingi slithers a hand between them and fists at San’s cock, a little callous and rough, but it’s exactly what San’s starting to like, exactly what gets him moaning like a two-bit whore. 

“Shh, yeah, just like that,” Mingi murmurs when San starts bucking his hips up, fucking up into Mingi’s fist, digging his nails into Mingi’s biceps desperately. Jesus Christ, it feels good, it feels _so_ good and San had never imagined it would ever feel so good with _Mingi_ , of all people. Mingi who used to hold San’s hand during parties and comfort him when he puked up terrible alcohol. Mingi who still delights in giving unsuspecting people ass jabs like they’re in fucking high school. Mingi who’s popular on campus because he’s hot and really beautiful and really nice and not at all like the kind of jocks San grew up with. 

Mingi who grabs hold of San’s ass and gropes it shamelessly, bending down to bite at San’s ear. San squeals and all but writhes in Mingi’s hold, shivering when Mingi takes his hand off his cock and turns him around, pushing at the top of his back to get him to lean against the wall. Then he slaps the inside of San’s thigh. 

San almost falls down. 

“Squeeze tight,” Mingi says and slaps San’s thighs again and San finally gets it, whimpering, sounding so ridiculously pathetic but squeezing his legs together. The position makes his back arch till his ass is pushed out and god, he must look like an _idiot,_ but Mingi just curses, slaps San’s ass lightly enough to make him yelp and then slowly pushes his cock between San’s thighs. 

“Oh my god,” San breathes out, his vision blurring. Mingi’s cock brushes up right against his perineum and balls and it feels electric. San’s cock twitches and his stomach swoops. 

“Stay still, yeah? That’s it, good,” Mingi mumbles, splaying his hands across the small of San’s back and grinding his hips, thrusting his cock into that small space, hips meeting San’s ass rhythmically. It really feels like San’s being continuously electrocuted, the pleasure intense, simmering under his skin, making his thighs shake feverishly. 

The friction against his balls is delicious but not enough and San tapers on the edge of molten, red-hot pleasure and physically feels himself crumble, grow desperate and needy, because Mingi’s fucking in hard enough for his hip bones to hurt San’s ass, hard enough that he has to hold San up by the waist, whispering little expletives and praise that makes San’s heart skip a beat. 

“So pretty, so _tight._ ” 

“You sound filthy, Jesus, everyone’s going to know who’s fucking you, Sannie.” 

Ohgodohgodohgod, they’re in a public fucking place and San’s here moaning his head off and whining like he’s being skewered. Which he is, he thinks helplessly, he literally feels like he’s being jabbed into and ripped apart and Mingi isn’t even really _fucking_ him. 

It’s that that makes San seize up and cum all over the tiled wall, scrabbling at the surface with his nails, head hanging down and jerking with Mingi’s movements. Mingi groans behind him because San must squeeze his thighs really hard and then presses San completely against the wall, dick plastered against his own cum, cheeks pressing into the tile, as his hips jerk wildly and something warm drips down San’s thighs. 

They pant heavily, Mingi holding San in a death grip like San’s nothing but a little blow up doll, _fuck_ , the thought makes his cock twitch. 

“Do you wanna get boba? Like on our way back? I’ll buy you taro milk tea, I know you like that one.” 

“Harngh,” San replies intelligently. And then, “I want the one from Coco.” 

Mingi rubs his nose into San’s wet hair and then slaps his ass, pulling away. 

“You got it.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Oh my god, you guys didn’t get boba for me?” 

San freezes at the entrance while Mingi carelessly toes off his shoes and strides in, walking slower when Wooyoung jumps on top of him and hangs on like a crab. San sips at his boba and trudges in after them, staring at the way Mingi literally effortlessly holds Wooyoung up with one hand, setting down his stuff with the other. Wooyoung giggles and smacks a wet kiss onto Mingi’s cheeks before getting off him. 

His 0% sugar boba suddenly tastes too sweet. 

“Sorry, it was an impulse decision,” Mingi says casually, walking to the fridge and pulling out a Tupperware box, settling down onto the dining table and digging into what looks like a chicken salad. San remembers the salmon bowl he’d prepared this morning and does the same, sitting down next to Mingi and eating quickly. 

Wooyoung sits down opposite them and takes sips from both their drinks periodically, scrolling through his phone. San keeps peeking up at him, wondering if he can see the guilt etched into San’s face, but Wooyoung just grins at him every time their eyes meet, blissfully oblivious. San smiles and pretends he’s not thinking about Mingi’s fat dick. Owner of said dick is sitting entirely too casually, shovelling lettuce into his mouth at breakneck speed. He catches San’s gaze and blinks, eyes curving up into crescents as he gives San a dopey smile. It’s a little concerning how cute San finds it. 

“Oh shit!” Wooyoung’s outburst makes them freeze. But Wooyoung’s looking at his phone, eyes wide, eyebrows lifted high up on his forehead. 

“Yooo, someone was getting _raw dogged_ in the North Block gyms.” San’s stomach physically recoils, like lurches so badly he almost gags on the piece of salmon in his throat. 

“Oh? Who?” San glances at Mingi who’s feigning obliviousness, is he _insane?_ Wooyoung shrugs. 

“No clue. Changbin said Kangmin just spoke to someone who walked into the shower rooms, heard someone shrieking and walked right out. God, I wish that were me, I wanna get raw dogged in the shower rooms,” Wooyoung mutters, pouting. Then he looks up at the two of them and squints. 

“Wait, weren’t you two just there?” 

San feels like a deflated balloon, all the air rushing out of his lungs. He’s about to mutter something that sounds plausible enough when Mingi sets his fork down into the empty container and leans back in his chair, lifting a shoulder dismissively. 

“Yeah, we were.” Oh my god, San is going to fucking strangle him. 

Wooyoung frowns, lips pursed and then nods. “Probably happened after you guys left then, I’m sure you would have heard people fucking.” 

Mingi lifts an eyebrow but he’s not looking at Wooyoung, he’s looking at San with something that looks an awful lot like amusement in his eyes. 

“Yeah, I’m sure we would have.” 

San tears his eyes away and stuffs a big spoonful of rice in his mouth, chewing noisily. 

“Okay, anyway, Sannie, I know you said you wanted to watch a movie tonight but Yunho um-asked if I wanted to go this new ramen restaurant and I couldn’t say no to that,” Wooyoung says, reaching out across the table to play with San’s fingers. 

“Oh. Yeah, that’s fine, go have fun,” San replies because he would be an absolute asshole to get upset at Wooyoung right now. Or, _ever._

“Cool! I have to get to class now, see you guys later!” Wooyoung hops up and practically skips up the stairs and San watches him go and thinks that he really, _really_ needs to tell him. 

“Hey, if you’re free this evening, do you wanna stay in and order some pho? There’s this place right outside campus that’s _mad_ good. We can watch something or whatever, if you wanna,” Mingi asks him. San drinks him in, takes in the way he’s scratching absentmindedly at the table, face soft and a little pink after the shower. His wet hair’s all ruffled and messy and he looks a little like a hatched chick, soft and cute. 

“Um, I think I should probably uh, study tonight. My first exam’s like two days after the meet so I gotta get on that,” San murmurs and doesn’t understand why he feels a little guilty. Mingi just nods quickly though and smiles. 

“Yeah, of course. Well, hit me up if you need a study buddy or something,” he says cheerily, getting up to wash his utensils. 

San sits there with his half-finished food and feels, a little, a lot, melancholy. 

And if later, much later, when most of the house is already asleep, he slips into Mingi’s room and climbs onto Mingi’s bed, startling him from the book he’s seemingly engrossed in, well, no one’s gonna know. And no one’s gonna know about the way San sits on Mingi’s dick, stretched out and feverish and almost falls asleep just like that, filled to the brim and hugged by a glasses-wearing, shirtless, _warm_ Mingi. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The day before his meet, San goes to class, does a simple workout, meets his Coach and sits down to actually, truly study because he wasn’t kidding about the exam; his Econ module is a _bitch_ and there’s a reason San majors in History and not something as complicated as Econ because San sucks at it, and really regrets baby, freshman San’s choice in modules, because seriously? _Econ_ as an elective?

By 8 pm, San decides he either needs help or needs to resign himself to scoring really low on this damn exam because he’s been at this for two hours now and as much as it _is_ helpful for him to do things that distract him from tomorrow’s competition, this is just making his brain hurt. He needs a damn snack break. 

He shuffles downstairs to the kitchen, waving blearily at Yeosang who’s sitting on the kitchen counter and furiously typing something on his laptop, and heading straight to the fridge. Oh thank god, Wooyoung had remembered to pick up peanut butter for him, and there’s a big bottle lying there. He scoops it out and then reaches for an apple, cutting it up into slices and pouring goopy peanut butter all over it. 

Settling down opposite Yeosang he wolfs down the fruit and then only just notices Mingi clambering into the kitchen too, fishing around the cupboards for something. San glances at Mingi quickly and takes a bite so he doesn’t have to talk. Which is really funny, really ironic considering just yesterday, Mingi had stuffed his cock into San’s mouth in the bathroom and told him to shut up because he was too loud. 

Chewing unhappily, San thinks of how he’s slept with Mingi literally every day since he came back on Saturday. That’s like almost 6 days. That’s 6 times someone’s cock has been out. Not counting the extra dicking on Sunday. Mingi comes over and ruffles San’s hair, sending shocks down his back, sitting down next to him and munching on crackers. 

San flattens his hair on his forehead. _Bubblegum slut_ , a disembodied voice reminds him in the back of his head and he whines internally. Stupid bubblegum hair. Stupid Mingi Song and his stupid dick and stupid, terrible, no-good San who can’t stay away. 

“You look tired. Meet’s tomorrow, right? Feeling nervous?” San pouts and shakes his head. He swipes a cracker from the packet Mingi’s holding and crunches on it. 

“Uh-uh. I’m stressed,” he says around a mouthful. That’s his go-to phrase now. 

“Stressed?” San swallows and glances at Mingi. Mingi’s wearing an extra-large hoodie today, looking surprisingly, uncharacteristically, small. 

“I’m trying to study for my Econ final and I can’t understand shit. It’s stressing me out.” 

A beat. And then Yeosang snorts. 

“Dude, you know Mingi’s an Econ major right?” And oh. _Oh._ San had completely forgotten. He gapes at Mingi who’s pressing his lips together, trying to hold back a smile. His eyes are bright and he stretches a hand out to lightly flick San’s forehead. 

“If you need help, just ask me, baby,” Mingi says breezily and San’s belly flutters. He glances at Yeosang quickly who isn’t even paying attention to them, glaring at his laptop instead. Presumably, at the group project he’s been working on and single-handedly doing for the last two weeks. He looks back at Mingi and allows himself to pout and soften the tiniest bit. 

“Okay, please help me.” 

Mingi dusts his hands off and gets up, putting the packet back in the cupboard. Then he holds a hand out to San and gestures upwards. 

“Come on, show me what’s got you so stressed.” 

  
  


“I don’t understand this,” San says, pointing to his laptop screen. They’re sitting on San’s bed, hunched over his laptop. San had put the heater on because it was chilly but now it’s a little too warm and he has to shrug off his jacket. Mingi leans in and frowns. 

“Which part?” 

San gestures vaguely. “Like, everything. I don’t understand money and capitalism, Mingi.” 

Mingi giggles and then before San can even blink, he scoops him up and shuffles backwards till he’s leaning against the headboard with San leaning against his chest. He pulls the laptop closer and places it on San’s lap. San feels cocooned and very tiny like this, Mingi’s hard chest under his back, his arms encircling him, his chin resting on San’s head. It’s nice, it’s really, really nice and like it’s a Pavlovian reflex by this point, San melts and sags against Mingi. 

“Okay, let’s figure this out, yeah?” 

San listens to Mingi speak, appreciating the way Mingi’s breaking it all down for him, and actually starts registering some information which okay, wait, this isn’t as complicated as he thought. Mingi has a nice voice, like a really calm, teaching voice and before San knows it, he’s burrowing into Mingi’s voice, lulled by how it rumbles in his chest, and everything goes a little faint, a little hazy around the edges. 

He absently registers Mingi putting his laptop down and wrapping his arms tighter around San’s middle. His hoodie smells really clean and San turns his face to the side and shoves his nose into Mingi’s arm, breathing deep. It smells like Mingi does right after he takes a shower and sometimes right before he goes to bed. It’s strange that San knows these tiny things about Mingi now. That he knows what Mingi smells like and what he sounds like when San does something right with his tongue and what he looks like when he grabs San tight and orgasms. 

It makes something heavy sit in San’s belly, like silt at the bottom of a murky river. 

It makes him tilt his head up and press a kiss to the underside of Mingi’s jaw and the soft smattering of acne scars there. It makes him whine softly when Mingi leans down and kisses San, intently and fiercely, fingers pressing into his cheeks and keeping him in place. 

And when Mingi’s hand travels down down down and slips under San’s sweats, San guides it lower, till Mingi’s fingers are resting against his hole. 

“Um, I cleaned up. I’ve been cleaning up like almost every day so you can- you can touch me,” San murmurs, cheeks flushing and shivers when Mingi taps his fingers against the sensitive skin there. San was a little miffed that their first time had been so spontaneous so he’s been keeping himself as clean as possible because he’s kind of terrified of anything embarrassing happening like farting on Mingi’s dick or something. Or worse, _dear God._ San has a vague recollection of Mingi wearing a condom but _still._ He would literally jump off a bridge if something like that were to happen. 

It hadn’t happened that first time and it hasn’t happened yet but if San’s going to be a whore, he’s going to do this right so he leans over and fishes out the lube from under his pillow and hands it to Mingi. Who just holds it and does nothing. San wiggles, tapping at Mingi’s wrist but Mingi still does nothing. So, he looks up and finds Mingi staring down at him, an eyebrow raised. 

“What?” 

“What do you want me to do with this?” Huh?

“I want you to use it obviously.” 

Mingi sighs like San’s said something really dumb. “ _How_ do you want me to use it?” 

And oh. Okay. San sees where Mingi’s going with this. His face feels really warm when he says, “Um, I want you to fuck me.” 

“Fuck you with what?”

“Mm, your fingers,” San replies, breathing a little heavily because Mingi’s hand is still down his pants and he keeps rubbing at San’s dry hole and distracting him. 

“Just my fingers?” And god, jesus, just- 

“No, more. I want more, want your cock as well,” he whispers and Mingi nods, taking his hand out to lube up his fingers and then guiding them back, circling San’s hole, maddening, tapping at it when San clenches and flutters against his fingers because he’s fucking sensitive and Mingi knows this and loves this and makes it a point to drive San mad. 

“Ease up for me,” Mingi murmurs and slowly pushes two fingers inside, waiting for San to adjust and then fucking them in sure, shallow movements. San arches but holds onto Mingi’s arm, grip tight and frantic. Mingi fucks another finger in and San mewls, eyes darting to the door to see if it’s closed. 

“There’s no point, everyone’s probably already heard you,” Mingi says, mean and amused, and San blushes, stifling a moan. He hates that the thought makes his cock twitch. Mingi slides another finger in and stretches him out thoroughly, practically ramming his fingers in till San’s curling up and flailing on the bed, hips bucking up. 

“F-fuck, fuck, please, too much,” he murmurs but doesn’t mean it at all and Mingi knows he doesn’t mean it because he snorts and fucks him harder, holding him down onto the bed when he thrashes. Then he stills and San moans at the loss but Mingi just shoves San’s sweats down and tugs him up and higher, so he can slide his own cock between San’s ass cheeks, rubbing against his taint, and carefully set San down onto it, groaning into his hair. 

It’s been like a week straight of them fucking and San’s still not used to Mingi’s size. It’s not really the length so much that bothers him, Mingi’s long but not uncomfortably so. It’s the girth, it’s the way San feels like he’s being split open, his tailbone aching every time Mingi breaches him. And it doesn’t help that San’s impatient and almost immediately tries bouncing on his cock, despite the ache, because it feels divine, it feels like nothing San’s ever experienced before and fuck, San has _no_ idea how he’s going to forget this when the truth inevitably comes out. 

He shushes the thought because he’s gotten good at that now and grinds his hips down, whining when Mingi puts a hand across San’s chest and holds him up so he can roll his hips faster, filthier, fucking himself on Mingi’s dick and tipping his head back. There are hands roaming his abs and the defined swell of his chest and San smirks when Mingi swears, gushing out praise after praise, feeling up San’s body and filling him up from the inside. 

He feels pinned in place and very much _worshipped._

Then Mingi’s hand goes lower and presses his lower abdomen and San lurches, suddenly aware of the pressure in his lower belly, of the fullness of his bladder and the way Mingi’s big ass hand is pushing right into it. 

“Wait, M-mingi, wait,” San whispers desperately, trying to shake Mingi’s hand off. Mingi just hums and fucks him harder and San almost wilts. His thighs are shaking so badly he can feel sweat gathering behind his knees. 

“Mingi, we need to stop, _please_.” Mingi stills, making a questioning noise and running his hands down San’s thighs. 

“Are you okay? Am I hurting you?” 

San bites his lip and like this, completely still, Mingi’s cock all up in his guts, it feels even worse, like it might come out the minute Mingi starts fucking up into him again. 

“I gotta- I need to pee,” San says hysterically, giggling a little because what the fuck, Mingi’s going to think he’s so _weird._

“Oh.” Then, “How badly?” 

“Huh? Um, like really bad, dude, I need to go, I’m sorry, I didn’t think-”

“You can do it here if you want to.” And _what._

San tries to turn around to look Mingi in the face but Mingi holds him too tight. 

“You can either do it here or hold it until I’m done with you.” Oh my god. San shivers, lips trembling and Mingi grinds his cock real slow into him, languid and lazy almost, but it’s anything but, it’s purposeful and enticing and San’s eyes roll back-

“You’ll hold it? You’ll be good for me, won’t you?” San can’t really answer because Mingi’s dick is touching something in him that makes him sob, shoving his fist in his mouth, tears spilling onto his cheeks. 

“Say it.” Mingi’s palm comes down to rub his belly and he sniffs. 

Nodding furiously, he whispers out a garbled yes and swivels his hips, jerking every time the pressure in his bladder spikes. It’s maddening and it’s like every part of San’s body shakes, held tautly and strung tight like a pulled string. 

And then Mingi’s fucking up into him with no abandon and San has to literally stuff his own fingers into his mouth to stifle the yell, making this weird, high-pitched noise instead that sounds like it’s being punched out of him. Mingi shuffles forward, tipping San over onto his belly and taking him from behind, holding onto his waist and thrusting wildly while San bites at his sheets and tries not to pee while getting fucked, _god._

Finally, with a high-pitched moan, Mingi stills, pulling out and striping San’s ass with his cum. San doesn’t move, he’s too scared to move but he’s so hard, he’s so painfully hard and he needs to be touched but it’s all so overwhelming and there’s a fuzzy, ringing noise in his ear. 

He’s vaguely aware of Mingi lifting him up and bundling him into something and carrying him. He registers where they are when he’s set down onto a familiar white tiled floor with harsh light. 

“Wait, did anyone-”

“No, don’t worry, they’re downstairs and Hongjoong and Seonghwa are out anyway. The bathroom was empty and no one saw you, I promise,” Mingi murmurs, holding San’s arms up and stripping him of his shirt till he’s standing in the shower cubicle completely naked. Mingi turns the shower on and joins him, shucking off his clothes as well. 

He hugs San from behind and holds him. Which San is very glad for because his whole body still trembles. His cock is still painfully hard and he needs to relieve himself desperately. 

“Mingi-”

“Yeah, I know. If you want, I can make you cum and you can let go right here, under the water,” Mingi murmurs and San’s heart hammers in his chest. 

“That’s weird. I don’t- that’s a lot,” he says softly and Mingi rubs his arms. 

“You don’t have to. I’ll wash myself off here and you can use the loo. Or, you can do it here. I don’t mind at all-”

“Mingi,” San says a little desperately, eyes tearing up and throat clenching. “I don’t know- I really need to go.” _I really need to go and I know it’s going to feel insanely good if you touched me while I did but this is weird- this is too intimate._

“You need to decide, baby.” 

San sniffs and grabs hold of Mingi’s arm, guiding it to his cock. “Please,” is all he says and Mingi gets it, wraps his fingers around San’s cock and tugs it and it makes San’s breath hitch and his thighs squeeze together. 

Mingi jerks him off steadily, kissing the top of his ear, the back of his neck, till San’s back arches and he’s cumming. And before he has the chance to even recollect his thoughts, a thin stream of liquid spurts out of his cock, and somehow it feels even better than an orgasm, makes him moan so loudly it echoes in the bathroom and he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care because Mingi fists his cock while he relieves himself and holds him really close. 

When he’s done, he’s boneless, wiped clean of any thoughts, an empty human being who just pissed in front of his friend/friend with benefits, and _liked it._

“That was- really fucking hot,” Mingi mutters behind him and San snorts, gasping a little when he feels Mingi’s cock against his backside, hard again. He turns around and gives Mingi a tired smile. 

“You’re an ass,” he mutters and Mingi grins, leaning down to kiss him thoroughly. 

They make out in the shower for a bit and Mingi jerks himself all over San’s belly lazily and it’s balmy and relaxed and San’s never felt this comfortable around _anyone._ They clean up afterwards and sneak back into San’s room. Hongjoong’s door is closed tight and Yeosang’s is too. The floor is quiet and peaceful but San still feels a little like the walking, talking embodiment of guilt. 

After, when Mingi’s wearing his hoodie and cuddling up behind him, San feels warm enough to talk about it. 

“Why did you like that? Have you done that before?” 

Mingi hums, scratching lazily at San’s stomach. “I haven’t really done that before, no. But I’ve always liked it. I-next time, we should talk about this kind of stuff before though, I was scared you were really upset and mad.” 

San considers this. “I was. But in a good way. Like I wanted you to push me into it. Why did you-what did you like about it though?” 

“I liked how desperate you got,” Mingi murmurs, a smile in his voice and San groans. “No really, you were- you looked like so far gone but you were still so hard and I don’t know, I really liked that,” he says carefully. And San thinks about it, thinks about what he must have looked like, out of his mind, tearing up and floundering and- maybe, maybe he can understand. Maybe he can see the appeal in that. His flushes and rubs his face into the pillow.

And before it’s even 10 pm, he falls into a dreamless, cocooned sleep. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


He wakes up before Mingi and gets ready quietly, packing his bag and stretching really quickly. He’s surprisingly not that sore from last night and feels really energised. He looks at Mingi for a quick second, fast asleep and snoring, and then he leaves, packing his breakfast to go. 

The venue he's at is only five minutes away from campus so he takes the bus and reaches there on time, greeting his team and Coach, signing up and studying the heat sheet thoroughly. The day’s long and San’s scheduled to race around noon so he spends most of it eating, drinking water and warming up thoroughly. He checks his phone in between and there’s a message from Mingi. It’s a selfie of him and Wooyoung outside the house, smiling brightly at the camera. 

**Good luck! We’re coming to watch you be amazing! Wooyoung says he’s wearing the lucky necklace.**

San snorts a little wetly. Wooyoung wore that awful necklace to San’s first meet in middle school and has attributed it to all of San’s subsequent accomplishments. He rubs at his eyes and replies back with a bunch of emojis. 

When it’s time, San shuts off, like he always does, like he’s trained to do, and gets ready. It barely takes any time. One moment he’s waiting at his podium, listening for the shrill whistle and the next he’s surfacing from underwater, looking around blindly for the scoreboard and blinking rapidly when he sees his name right at the top. 

Coach is yelling from the sidelines, gesturing at him wildly and he pulls San out of the water, thumping him on the back. 

“Well done! And you finally did a passable flip turn!” San shivers a little from the chill and the happy jitters running through his body and beams. 

He catches sight of Gahyeon in the small crowd when he’s getting his medal and being photographed, and she waves enthusiastically, sending him flying kisses. Then she gestures to her side where Mingi and Wooyoung are standing, clapping obnoxiously and jumping up and down. 

Showering and changing as quickly as he can, he jogs out to the main area to search for his friends when someone barrels into him and hugs him tight. 

“Yes! lucky necklace strikes once again!” San giggles, hugging Wooyoung back just as hard, pressing his face into Wooyoung’s soft hair. “It was mostly you, I concede, but some of it was definitely the strange magic this necklace holds.” 

San pats his cheek and agrees wholeheartedly. Then before he can even move, he’s being lifted and spun, and he whirls around, a little lightheaded, stares at Mingi’s toothy smile and sparkling eyes and the realisation flits through him subtly, like the slightest touch of a feather, like it’s been there all this time and it's just reminding him of its presence. 

Mingi hugs him tight and he smells so good and _oh._

“I’m so _so_ proud of you, you were amazing out there! You blow my mind, Sannie.” 

_Oh no._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are appreciated!!


	3. got me looking so crazy, my baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIIII  
> SORRY FOR THE WAIT  
> i decided to divide this last bit up bc I'm kind of struggling w ending this fic and i might as well put up the first half of what i'd written. i want to finish the rest this weekend and put it up finally, WITHOUT OVERTHINKING LOL. so yeah, one last chapter folks,,, just have a bit more patience with sangi being dumb lmaoo
> 
> i hope you enjoy this!!!

The first time San ever kissed a boy was in the 9th grade, at someone’s birthday party, during a very enthusiastic game of truth or dare. 

Granted the boy was Wooyoung, who gave him an excited,  _ slobbery  _ peck while everyone cooed and cheered and San’s real glad his first kiss was with Wooyoung- he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

But San, under all that muscle and hastily bleached hair, is a soft person. That infallible, fragile thing that hides within him thrives off of softness, tenderness and _romance._ He’s a melancholy, romantic person and he’s been that way forever. He used to read his mom’s Mills & Boon paperbacks late at night when he was a kid, cheeks flaming under the blankets, heart pounding. Then, once he’d figured out that he wanted to envision _himself_ with the male leads, he graduated to manhwas and queer romance novels and a lot. _A lot_ of porn. 

He used to dream of what it felt like to be kissed by that one person, that person that you liked, who liked you  _ back.  _ When he met Hyunjin in first year and drunkenly kissed him at that party, he thought he’d found that person. They went on dates, they fucked, and they had fun, but not even two months later, they parted amicably because really, it felt more like a friends with benefits situation rather than an actual relationship. Which is fine because Hyunjin’s an awesome guy and they’re still really good friends with no awkwardness between them. 

And maybe that’s why San thought this  _ thing  _ with Mingi, ill-founded as it is, would be fine because technically, he’s done this before right? The one short-lived relationship San’s had, had been with a friend, so this should have been the same: casual, normal,  _ easy.  _

But he should have known. Well, first off, he should have been a better person and a better friend, but this thing with Mingi? Oh, San should have known. 

San should have known because the first time they met, at that party, San had laughed and danced with Mingi all night long and drunkenly thought about what it would feel like if Mingi kissed him and promptly squashed the thought when Wooyoung started grinding up on Mingi. He should have known because in second year, that time he fell violently sick after eating take-out, it was Mingi who found him puking his guts out at 5 am, Mingi who made him tea and walked,  _ walked,  _ all the way to the nearest pharmacy to get him medicine. He should have known because Mingi Song is a complex, endearing person who has most definitely masturbated into a sock but also watched the entirety of  _ Merlin  _ with San and liked it so much he bought San Arthurian history books for his birthday last year and signed posters and, God.  _ God.  _

And maybe he should have known because he’s a guarded, emotional,  _ foolish _ person and developing a crush on the one person who gave him the kind of attention he desperately wanted and dreamed of is  _ exactly _ the kind of thing he’d do. 

And in a small hole-in-the-wall bbq place, San sits on a rickety little table with his best friend and the guy he likes, meat sizzling on the grill between them, listens to them talk about how cool San was today and how he deserves a meal out after winning his competition and wishes he were anywhere but here. 

“Here,” Mingi tells him, placing pieces of grilled meat onto San’s plate and wrapping them up with lettuce, lifting it to his face and waiting for him to take a bite. San looks at the food and then at Mingi’s earnest face. Mingi’s wearing a beanie today that covers his honey-blond hair and the red tips of his ears. His cheeks are flushed from the heat of the grill and they look like tiny nectarines when Mingi smiles, round and soft. 

San takes a bite carefully and pretends that the pink blooming across his face comes from the spiciness of the meat _.  _

“Aww, y’all look so cute, lemme take a picture!” Wooyoung whips out his phone and impatiently motions at them to stick their heads closer together. Mingi places his hand on the back of San’s chair and scooches his own closer, till his face is only a hair’s breadth away from San’s. 

San doesn’t move because his limbs feel droopy and heavy and he just sits there, mouth pressed tight, staring wide-eyed at the camera and gasping a little when Mingi presses a peck to his cheek right when the flash goes off. 

“Adorable. This is going on my story  _ and  _ the group chat,” Wooyoung snickers, tapping away at his phone and when San’s phone pings he looks down at it, swipes up the notification, and stares at the picture. The rest of their friends are replying with emojis and cheery messages congratulating him for the win but San can’t look away from the picture because they do look adorable, despite his pinched face. They look real fucking cute and San is such a goddamn idiot. 

He doesn’t say much for the entirety of the meal, stuffing his face quickly, pouting a little when Mingi asks him if he’s okay. 

“I’m fine, just really tired,” he murmurs, and Mingi pats his shoulder, dropping his hand down and wrapping it around San’s palm where it rests on his thigh under the table, his thumb caressing the jut of bone on the side of his wrist. The food, albeit delicious, is suddenly so difficult to swallow, sticking in San’s throat like a dry pill.

He doesn’t let go of San’s palm until they’re done and the server drops the bill onto their table. San squashes down the needy thought that urges him to hang onto Mingi’s arm like a toddler, with no care for Wooyoung sitting right in front of them. 

Wooyoung, who pays his share of the bill quickly and leans over the table to press a big fat kiss to San’s forehead, whispering, “Congrats, soulmate. I got you something really cute because I knew you were going to win!” 

“W-wait, why, you really didn’t have to-” 

Wooyoung just waves his hand dismissively, slinging his bag over his shoulder and standing up. “It’s just a really cute pair of earrings, nothing fancy, I’ll give it to you at home. I gotta get to class but I’ll see you guys later?” 

He doesn’t give San a chance to protest or even say goodbye before he’s waving cheerily and sauntering out, tweed coat billowing behind him. San stays glued to his seat awkwardly and only moves when Mingi stands up as well, quickly gathering his things and following him out. 

When they’re outside, San shivers, wrapping his coat tighter around his chest. The evenings get so bone-deep cold and windy now and his skin prickles, muscles jittering so much he can’t stay still. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and shimmies his legs to get some warmth to circulate when Mingi’s broad chest is suddenly really close to him. 

He blinks and opens his mouth to speak, but Mingi steps back just as quickly, and San only then registers the big, lumpy scarf that’s now looped around his neck, warm and soft. 

“There you go,” Mingi says and kisses him firmly, his lips searing. Then he tugs San’s arm and starts walking ahead casually. San lets him pull him along like a lifeless teddy bear, his mind still trying to register the last five seconds, the kiss replaying in his head like a broken reel. When Mingi’s long steps force him to take quicker, tinier steps, he speeds up and holds Mingi’s arm tighter. His face no longer feels cold and he stuffs it into the scarf, taking in the smell of Mingi’s cologne and trying to ignore the tingling of his lips. 

“Do you want to get something to drink?” Mingi asks and he must see the way San scrunches his nose in distaste because he chuckles and backtracks. “Yeah okay, let’s go home.” 

The house is quiet when they get back, unusually so, and San peers into the living room curiously after removing his shoes and outerwear, catching sight of Jongho curled up on the couch, a sleeping ball still dressed in pyjamas. He walks in quietly and settles down next to Jongho’s head, caressing his chubbed up cheeks and smiling. It’s not often they see Jongho like this, cute and blessedly quiet. 

Mingi snorts from somewhere in the kitchen, his voice carefully muffled when he says, “He had like two papers today. He’s going to stay asleep till midnight and then wake up with the wrath of God because he has another one tomorrow. We gotta remember to wake him before dinner.” 

San stifles a laugh behind his palm and gets up from the couch before he wakes Jongho up, stumbling to the kitchen where Mingi’s got something heating up on the stove. He looks up when San walks in and smiles softly and there, there’s that strange intense feeling in San’s chest, like his heart just stops beating for a moment. 

“Want some hot chocolate? Wooyoung got this fancy powdered one and I’ve been eyeing it for a while. Today feels like as good a day as any to try it out,” he says, gesturing to the pot on the stove and the swirling, gooey chocolate within, bubbling away cheerfully. It smells divine and San nods, sitting down on the small table and preoccupying himself with staring at Mingi’s back under his cream turtleneck. It is very broad, he deduces after a whole minute of staring. San wants to climb him like a tree. 

But he shouldn’t. What he should be doing is sitting Mingi down and telling him that they can’t keep doing this anymore because Wooyoung is San’s best friend and if San were to break his heart, he would never forgive himself. But then Mingi finishes up, cheering under his breath and pouring the thick hot chocolate into two cups, setting them down on the table, smiling giddily. San melts like a miserable marshmallow and tries not to reach over and kiss Mingi. 

Just for now, he tells himself. Just for today and then never again. 

He repeats this to himself when they get done, washing up the mugs, and clambering up the stairs to Mingi’s room, giggling, Mingi’s palms already searching underneath San’s sweater, searing against his bare skin. San’s belly is full and warm and a little soft, all the push-ups and prep he did this morning making way for food and drink. But Mingi doesn’t seem to mind that San’s stomach isn’t rock hard, just rubs his palms over San’s belly and kisses him fervently, pushing him up against the tiny desk, his other hand coming up to play with San’s hair, fingers grazing over the little ponytail he’d hastily tied it into and pulling lightly. 

San whines a little when Mingi lifts him up till he’s seated on the desk and leaning against the wall at the back, Mingi occupying the space between his legs and caging him in. He’s finding that he really likes the sugary, gritty aftertaste of chocolate when it’s on Mingi’s tongue. Mingi pulls at his little ponytail again and San groans. 

Pulling away to flash him a cheeky smile, Mingi plays with the ponytail, tucking in the hair that’s falling out. “This is so cute, gosh. You look so fucking cute,” he whispers, pressing hard kisses to San’s cheeks and snickering when San squawks, elbowing Mingi. 

“Why do you like my hair so much?” It sounds a little petulant and pouty but Mingi hums, holding San’s chin gently and kissing him again, softer this time, a little slower. 

“I just do. I like your hair always. And I like it like this,” Mingi says, gently untangling the rubberband from San’s hair, smoothing his fingers over his sore scalp and scratching gently. San closes his eyes and presses a little closer to Mingi, thighs squeezing Mingi’s tiny waist. 

It’s warm in Mingi’s room. It always is; Mingi leaves his heater running all the damn time and gets yelled at by Hongjoong about the electricity bill but the upside is that it’s the best place in the entire house to escape the everpresent winter chill and cosy up. The soft panda night light on Mingi’s desk casts a balmy glow over Mingi’s face and the swell of his cheek, the slope of his jaw much more defined and sharp, half-hidden in the shadow, startlingly handsome. San stares at the dips and planes of his face through drooping eyes, trying not to moan out loud at how good Mingi’s fingers feel in his hair, how lightning courses down his spine and makes his entire body tremble. 

“What does that mean?” San’s not even sure if he voices out the question or whether it’s all in his head, floating around in warmth and golden light. But Mingi makes a questioning sound, brushing through San’s hair, slow and gentle. 

“ _ Always _ . Did- I’ve been meaning to ask,” San starts, halting a little. His cheeks feel ablaze. “When did you think of me like  _ this _ ?”  _ Like I was good enough for you to touch.  _ Mingi hums, pulling back to place his hands on San’s thighs, rubbing the seam of his jeans absently. He stares at San, blank and so terribly pointed, San can’t help but look away, keeping his eyes level with Mingi’s chest. Which isn’t any better really, the swell of Mingi’s pecs under his turtleneck looks tantalising. 

“I’m not sure. Felt like I always did.” San’s heart leaps into his throat and settles there uncomfortably. “I think the first time I felt like I could act on it was that day in my room obviously. For the first time, it felt like maybe you thought of me that way too.” 

San groans, head thunking onto Mingi’s shoulder. “Please, that night was so  _ embarrassing _ .” That night was the first in a series of terrible mistakes. Mingi’s hands slide up, till they’re resting on his waist, slipping under his sweater and stroking up his sides, the sensation ticklish and heady. 

“I don’t think you were embarrassing at all, we’ve established this. But I do wish I could redo that first time,” Mingi mutters and San’s about to ask him what he means by that when Mingi leans in and presses a firm kiss to the top of San’s head, sighing heavily. 

“I wasn’t sure whether I should have bought you something today,” Mingi says mournfully and San shakes his head quickly, pulling back to frown at him. 

“Of course not, gosh, Wooyoung’s just- that’s just his thing, he likes doing that-”

“Still, I want to do something for you. Anything you want.” Mingi’s hands roam higher and higher till the tips of his fingers are grazing against San’s nipples, palms cupping his chest tenderly. San gapes at him, torn between bringing his elbows together and shying away from Mingi or arching into his touch, lining up his body against Mingi’s until every part of them is pressed together from the bottom to the top. 

“U-uhm. I don’t mind anything,” San mutters, hissing when one of Mingi’s fingers circles his nipple lazily, nail digging into the sensitive bud. Truly, he doesn’t really mind anything. Sex with Mingi is fucking fantastic no matter what they do. At the same time though, San doesn’t want to push Mingi too far; Mingi’d attempted to pick him up and fuck him against the wall a few days ago and his back injury had made itself known viciously. He’d tried to mask the pain and pretended like nothing was wrong but San knew better and he might not have any  _ physical  _ limits when it comes to Mingi Song, but he knows Mingi does. 

“I’m serious,” he insists when Mingi gives him an incredulous look. “I’m just- I’m okay with whatever. Like, I like what we normally do and I-I also liked what we did yesterday,” he says quietly and groans when the pressure against his nipple increases. 

“Yeah? You wanna do some more of that?” Mingi leans in and mouths at his neck, a little sloppy and wet, making San jolt, head tipping back. San can’t deny that that does sound nice. But he’s also not sure if he’s ready for the  _ intensity  _ that brought. He wants to be better prepared for it, have a few days to deliberate over it. So he shakes his head, fingers coming up to tangle into Mingi’s soft hair. 

“Not sure. I want- I want to feel like that though. I liked how it felt.” Mingi hums again, sucking a hickey into the underside of San’s jaw, peppering kisses down his neck, eager and attentive. 

“How did it feel?” 

“Uh _ -hah _ .” Mingi sucks at San’s earlobe, nipping at the soft skin there. San jerks, hands fisting into Mingi’s sweater. 

“I liked- I liked how  _ small  _ I felt. Like not just physically. I liked you holding me a-and how it almost felt like you were taking care of me but it also felt really humiliating?” San can’t quite describe it because the only point of reference he has is that one moment, that one time with Mingi. He’s not even sure if what he’s saying makes any sense but he remembers Wooyoung talking about how he felt after some guy choked him out one time, how he felt weightless and vulnerable in the best way possible and that’s  _ exactly  _ what San craves. 

“I think I understand what you mean,” Mingi murmurs, pressing a wet kiss to San’s cheek and pulling away a little, grasping San by the arms when he sways forward, still chasing Mingi’s touch. He tugs at San, helping him hop off the desk and stand up. “Come on.” 

He guides San to the bed, quietly asking him to undress before stepping away and walking to the cupboard. San raises an eyebrow at him but acquiesces, sitting on the edge of the bed and shucking off his sweater and jeans, shuffling to the centre of the bed and sitting cross legged there, only in his underwear. Mingi opens a few drawers, reaching out to grab something and then comes back with a long, thin scarf. 

Mingi climbs onto the bed and sets the scarf down in front of him, eyes flicking up to take in San’s mostly naked body. 

“Can I try something?” San licks his lips and nods, sitting back against the pillows when Mingi gestures at him to. Then, Mingi leans in closer, holding the scarf in one hand, and takes both of San’s wrists in the other, holding them together. He waits for San to nod again and then ties the scarf around his wrists and pushes at his chest till San’s lying down flat. With his hands tied like this, resting against his belly, effectively trapped, he feels a little- strange. 

“If you need me to stop at any point, I need you to say so really clearly. The second it gets too much or if you don’t like it, yeah?” San nods again, a strange, fluttering sensation in the dip of his chest. 

Maybe it’s the way Mingi openly  _ devours _ him, eyes hooded and heavy, hands running down his body, gripping his waist. Maybe it’s the way the placement of San’s arms make his chest bulge out a little, his skin already tacky with sweat, his muscles tense and jumpy. Maybe it’s the way Mingi’s completely dressed and tall and imposing between his legs, despite his soft hair and soft cheeks. 

Mingi takes his bound wrists and slowly, casually, pushes them up till they’re under his chin and this- god, this feels even better somehow, like he’s well and truly trapped. He blinks up at Mingi and almost whines out loud at the open want etched all over his face. It’s overwhelming, especially when Mingi keeps one hand clasped around San’s wrists and the other moves down to fondle at his clothed cock, palm cupping his balls and  _ squeezing.  _

“ _ F-fuck! _ ” San arches but his movements are limited by his arms and the weight of Mingi holding him down and he wheezes, panting loudly. Mingi smiles at him and does it again, gripping and tugging at his cock, fingers rubbing at the leaking head through cloth, like he’s merely fidgeting, playing around. Like San’s not writhing and mewling under him, cock twitching in his hold. 

“We’ve barely done anything and you’re already so wet? Do I get you wet, San?” San gapes at Mingi who grins back at him, cocksure and easy. He averts his gaze and cants his hips up, further into Mingi’s lax palm, trying to get him to squeeze a little harder, with the right amount of pressure and friction. But Mingi doesn’t budge, palm barely grazing his crotch, instead moving to grope at the skin of his inner thigh, fingers digging in and squeezing at the soft flesh. 

It feels like Mingi’s  _ exploring  _ his body, like San’s an inanimate thing for him to touch and squeeze and grope all over. The thought makes his stomach flip, so much heat blazing under his skin, he feels like he could burst. 

He’s about to say something,  _ anything _ at all, to try and get Mingi to touch him more when Mingi pulls at the waistband of his underwear and tugs it over his thighs, undressing him completely. San stares down at his flushed, aching cock and whines under his breath. Mingi settles back in between his thighs, holding them open and up till San’s well and truly spread out and exposed. 

Then, Mingi casually rubs his palm against the leaking head of San’s cock, and snaps his hand away when San bucks his hips upwards. There are tears gathering along San’s eyelashes and everything looks a little blurry, a little too bright. He huffs and Mingi hums. 

“I’m going to stop touching you if you move,” he warns and does it again, cupping San’s cock in the dip of his palm, gripping the length loosely and spreading the precome all over. It’s- it’s so much, San’s so sensitive and his tummy quivers and clenches violently, trembling with the need to push into the touch, to beg for more. 

Mingi keeps doing it, these lax, playful, teasing touches, barely giving San the reprieve he needs, and he hangs precariously on the precipice of feeling overwhelmed and going mad with want because it’s not enough, not enough at all but arousal pools under San’s skin and pours out in torrents; in the way his skin prickles with sweat, his muscles shaking. In the way he sniffs and his mouth is open, teeth clenched. 

He squeezes his eyes shut when Mingi fists at his cock suddenly, throwing his head back and riding the mounting pleasure when Mingi pulls away just as quickly and San fizzles, choking on a sob. He glances at Mingi through teary eyes and tries not to cry but the careful look on Mingi’s face, the way he’s  _ still _ fucking dressed, makes him blink rapidly, tears dripping down his cheeks. 

“M-mingi,” he manages to choke out and digs his heels into Mingi’s side insistently, hissing when Mingi just pushes his thighs down further, till there’s a delicious, aching stretch in his inner thighs. “Please, fuck, it’s too much.” 

Mingi digs the tip of his finger into the slit of San's cock slowly, staring at San curiously. San makes an embarrassingly needy sound and Mingi smiles.

"Do you wanna stop? You just have to say the word." He backs off completely, sitting on his haunches and waiting for San to reply. San considers it, his body feeling wrung out, electric. He doesn't want it to stop: not really. He just wants to cum really  _ really _ badly.

He sniffs, pulling his arms up so that he can wipe his nose absently. "I- no, don't want to stop. I want to cum, please," he asks quietly, his entire torso flushing with heat. He chances a glance up to Mingi's impassive face and bites his lip, waiting.

For a moment, Mingi doesn't move, staring down at San. Then he leans down, bracing himself on his elbows over San's prone body and presses a deep kiss to San's lips once, tilting his head to kiss his cheekbones, soft and indulgent. San shivers, breathing shakily, and pushes his face up into the kisses, making small, hitched noises in the back of his throat.

Mingi pulls away but stays there, balancing on one elbow and smiling down at San, bringing his hand up to brush back San's sweaty hair from his forehead.

"My  _ baby _ ," Mingi says, tugging at San's earlobe gently. He's still smiling, that bright, crescent smile that makes his eyes sparkle. San stares up at him and swears he forgets to breathe for a moment. Mingi sits back up, taking a second to shuck his own clothes off, tugging his pants down and throwing them across the room. Then, he lies down next to San, only clad in his boxers, and grips San's waist, turning him over and up till San's leg is thrown over Mingi's thighs, his body lined up against Mingi's side.

His arms are squished into his chest like this but it's not uncomfortable, especially when Mingi helps him adjust so that his elbows aren't digging into his ribs, holding him close. Mingi curls his body a little inwards, resting his head on his forearm, looks straight into San's eyes and reaches down to furiously pump San's cock.

San gasps, back arching immediately, hips undulating, and like this, a hair's breadth away from Mingi's face, he feels ridiculously exposed, every needy, blissful, microscopic expression that flits across his face visible to Mingi. Who  _ scrutinises  _ him, mouth parted, breath coming out in tufts.

That's the only indication San has that Mingi's just as affected by this as San is. Mingi digs his thumb into the head of his cock on an upstroke, and San starts crying a little again, the pleasure almost unbearable.

"Oh god," he keeps gasping, eyes fluttering close, fucking up into Mingi's fist frantically, as much as the position can allow him. He's close, he can feel it, and he tries to tell Mingi this, but his words get stuck in his throat, coming out in gasping sobs and high pitched mewls.

But Mingi seems to understand because he just grips San's cock harder and his pace quickens, till it's almost unbearable and before San knows it he's choking on a moan, body shaking so violently, his teeth chatter.

Mingi milks him through it, gentler, making these placating shushing noises and pressing kisses to San's eyelids. It feels like a lifetime before San's body stops shivering. He keeps his eyes closed though, even when he feels Mingi sit up and wipe his hand off with a tissue, carefully wiping San's dick as well.

He keeps his eyes closed even while Mingi unties his wrists and massages them, moving upwards and kneading at San's arms in broad, soothing strokes. He keeps his eyes closed because he's afraid if he opens them he'll start crying again the second he sees Mingi's face.

"You okay?" Mingi's hands come up to knead at his collarbone and San all but sinks into the mattress, his body a mushy puddle of mellowed muscles and misplaced  _ feelings. _ He nods slowly and the mattress shifts with Mingi's weight as he comes back to lie next to San, enveloping him in a warm hug.

San opens his eyes slowly but keeps them low, staring at Mingi's torso, his small waist and-

"Wait, did you-"

Mingi shifts, pulling at his boxers and San hears the bashful smile in his voice when he says, "Yeah, don't worry. I- your leg was rubbing up against my crotch and before I knew it I'd already- yeah." He sounds so awkward and shy and San stares up at his red face and then down at the wet stain in his boxers and throws his arms around Mingi's neck, leaning in to press an open-mouthed kiss to Mingi's mouth.

They kiss for what feels like ages, licking into each other’s mouths lazily, wrapped around each other and for a very long, suspended moment, San really feels like this could be real. Like he could  _ have  _ this and stay right here, in Mingi’s arms. 

Then, Mingi’s phone rings and it’s like the invisible cocoon around them shatters. 

Mingi groans, sitting up and stretching out to the ground to fish his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. He presses the screen and murmurs a disgruntled, “What?” into the speaker. 

“ _ What do you mean what? Is that how you greet me, Mingi Song?”  _

San sits up quickly as well, a familiar knot coming back to grip and twist at his insides. Mingi murmurs a little apology but Wooyoung barrels on, speaking loud and fast as per usual. 

“ _ Anyway, is there any food at home? I was thinking of picking up pizza, I’m walking back to the house right now and that place near the corner shop is doing discounts. I texted the group chat but no one replied. Assholes, all of you. ”  _

Mingi leans back against the headboard, a hand resting on San’s thigh lazily. San tries not to snatch it away.

“Yeah, I could do with pizza actually. Sorry, we weren’t checking our phones. There’s only three of us at home anyway,” he muses and then glances at San. “Do you want pizza too?”

San stills, blinking rapidly at Mingi. Before he can say anything, Wooyoung’s tinny voice echoes through the speaker. 

“ _ Is that Sannie?”  _

Fucking hell. He glares at Mingi furiously, shaking his head. He doesn’t want Wooyoung to know he’s here even though there really isn’t any way for Wooyoung to know  _ why  _ he’s with Mingi right now. Still, the irrational anxiety makes his lips buzz and he keeps shaking his head even when Mingi frowns at him, confused. 

“I- uh, he’s downstairs,” Mingi says into the receiver, slow and unsure. 

“ _ Oh. Who’re you with?”  _

“Uhm. Jongho. He says he’ll have the pineapple combo.” 

“ _ Yuck. Atrocious. What do you and San want?”  _

“I’ll have the grilled chicken. And…” He stares at San who mouths pepperoni, silently. He feels ridiculous, like a fucking child trying to be sneaky around nosy parents. It’s humiliating and more than anything, makes the knot in his stomach grow larger and larger. Mingi continues talking to Wooyoung on the phone and San gets off the bed, picking up his clothes from the floor and pulling them back on. 

“Yeah. That’s all,” Mingi tells Wooyoung, eyes trained on San. “And don’t forget the garlic bread.” 

“ _ I’m not a heathen! Anyway, I gotta call the others now so bye!”  _

In the sudden, abrupt silence after the call ends, San busies himself with buttoning up his shirt and keeps his eyes on the ground. 

“You okay? You sure you want to wear jeans again? I have some pyjamas you can borrow.”

“Nah, it’s fine, I’ll change in my room,” San murmurs and then winces a little at how curt it sounds. He peeks at Mingi who’s still sitting on the bed, wide-eyed and soft-cheeked, hair all messy and ruffled up from San’s fingers running through it. He blinks at San and bites his lip. 

“Oh okay. Are- are you okay though? You seem kinda upset. Why didn’t you want Wooyoung to know-”

“I think we should stop this.” San wrings his hands together and forces himself to look at Mingi. Mingi’s mouth opens and closes, brows furrowing. 

“Wait what?” 

“Like, stop  _ this.  _ Hooking up. I’m- I don’t want to do this anymore.” It feels like he’s spewing acid from his mouth. It sure looks like it by the way Mingi’s eyes widen impossibly, face falling. He doesn’t speak for a terrible moment. 

“San, was it- I’m sorry if I pushed you too far, that may have been too much, I didn’t mean to-” 

“No, oh my god,” San stammers out, waving his hands fervently. “It’s not because of that at all, like you're fine. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just- I can’t keep doing this because I-” He pauses. He’s not sure if he should tell Mingi outright that Wooyoung has a crush on him. 

So, he settles on, “A close friend has a crush on you and I can’t keep sleeping with you knowing that. Like, I feel like a terrible person, like, we shouldn’t have hooked up in the first place, much less kept sleeping together. It’s- it’s eating me up, Mingi.” It scrambles out in a rush. Mingi’s still looking at him with huge eyes. Then, he purses his lips and nods, scratching at his elbow and fidgeting. 

“Okay.” _ Okay? _

“If you’d like to stop, that’s fine, obviously,” Mingi says simply. He’s staring at his own knee like he’s fascinated with it. 

San chuckles nervously. “Yeah, uhm, I mean, it’s not like this was serious so- not a big deal at all. It’s not like we were dating or something.” 

Mingi looks up at him and San’s breath catches in his throat. Mingi’s eyes are closed off, blank in that careful way again but there’s a strange sheen to them. A strange twist to his mouth when he smiles. 

“Yeah.” He says it so quietly San almost doesn’t catch it. Suddenly San feels like he’s balancing on a taut rope, far too close to slipping and falling. “Don’t worry dude, it’s not a big deal,” Mingi continues, louder this time, accompanied by a sleazy smile. He leans back on his elbows and raises an eyebrow at San, looking almost entirely, unaffected. Something about it makes San’s chest ache. 

“Aren’t you going to tell me who it is?”

“Who’s what?” 

Mingi squints, snorting. “Who has a crush on me?” 

“Oh. Uh, I shouldn’t, I don’t think he’d want me to. You just- I’m sure he’ll speak to you soon.” And then because he feels like he might burst if he stands here any longer- “I’m going to- go. I, yeah, I’ll be in my room.” 

Mingi nods, smiling softly. “Go ahead, I’ll see you for dinner,” he murmurs before falling back onto the bed with a yawn. 

  
San pads out silently, walking towards his own room. He settles down on his bed and only then notices the way his hands shake. He drops his head into his palms and sighs.  _ Fuck.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find me on twt @fightmehyuk as per usual, I'm never up to any good.

**Author's Note:**

> hi, if you liked this please consider leaving a comment and kudos!


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